Birds of a Feather
by m klindt
Summary: On a visit to New York, a doctor taking his boards is in the wrong place at the wrong time and has to help out a Super Hero


Birds of a Feather

By

M. Klindt

A grad gift for Ryan Swigert MD

Takes place before Captain America: Winter Soldier

The shock and sound of the smashing glass was deafening and heart stopping. Light refracted off of what was the deli's front window, making it look like glitter falling from the ceiling.

Then there was the noise of hysteria of those running for their lives after spotting a man tumbling head over heels past the tables to end face down in the aisle between the booths and dining counter. The unconscious man wore as many cuts and scrapes as he did his pitch black army fatigues.

All but one man ran out of the diner that had just become a war zone. Instead, the visitor to New York City jumped from his seat two booths away to render first aid to the fallen intruder.

As the startled man tried to still his galloping heart, he fell to his knees over the downed warrior and started to try to turn him to his back, when a painful moan escaped from the soldier. Along with the deep growl, came a swift hand that snaked up and grabbed the throat of helpful bystander.

"Who are you?" The man in black demanded as he increased the pressure on the other's neck. "You need to leave now!"

"I…can…help." The restaurant patron choked out as he brought both hands up to desperately paw at the soldier's hand trying to break his neck. "I'm…a…Doctor."

"I don't need a God-damn Doctor," the wounded man snarled while trying to force his eyes open since the crash. "You need to leave before…"

As his sight began to fade, the doctor felt the sudden release of pressure to his throat and a harsh push with that same hand toward the exit. As he fell back on his butt in surprise and the shock to be able to suddenly breathe again, he looked back at the soldier who had painfully started to pull himself up with the help of a barstool that was bolted to the floor.

"You need to lie still until help can get here…" the Good Samaritan barely squeaked out through his swollen airway while he watched the soldier slowly will his body to move.

Not knowing anything else to call this man, but "soldier", the doctor heaved a heavy sigh as he worked his body up his knees as well while he took inventory of this determined warrior next to him. His brown, spiky hair dripped with sweat and glass fragments that fell as he rolled back from his side to his chest while slowly attempting to get up on his knees.

Small trickles of blood dotted the soldier's face, arms, and hands where the window shards had made contact. The bunched muscles and old scars that covered the man's exposed skin told the physician that this wasn't his first battle royal. Traveling his sight over the soldier's arms, revealed just how fit this man was; veins popped out on top of lean muscle.

Nurse porn!

The doctor smirked to himself to why now his brain would think of what a nurse in the operating room told during his residency. He almost laughed out loud at the thought of lusting over anyone who had visible veins big enough to start an intravenous line into without even trying. The bigger the better with the slogan that read, "Yea, I'd tapped that!"

Shaking himself out his dazed thoughts to try and take control of the situation, the doctor cleared his throat, swallowed, and placed a hand on the struggling soldier's elbow. "Now, you need to…"

With startling speed and accuracy, the soldier twisted his arm away from the well meaning doctor, who just wasn't getting the whole picture to just leave, no run, and locked his bloodied hand around the physician's wrist. The soldier was still on his knees and leaning over a barstool.

"I'm fine!" The soldier's intense blue-gray eye locked with the young doctor's. "You need to get out of here before…"

"Before what?" the doctor's eyebrows rose in startled response.

"Before the people who want this commie loving, bastard comes after him." Another soldier in green fatigues opened the door to the diner, ignoring the crunching of broken glass under his feet, and stopped in front of the down men while causally cradling a semi-automatic rifle in front of his chest.

"Don't say anything!" The soldier harshly whispered to the doctor while he gave the physician's wrist another painful squeeze until he agreed with a quick nod.

"Now step away from Agent Barton… slowly."

Two heavily armed men walked around the room to stand behind the doctor and started to pat him down for weapons and looking for identification. More men joined the others guards to stand near the soldier who continued to quickly get his feet underneath him.

"Major Zit!" The soldier sarcastically crowed with a smartass smirk on his lips as he started casually push off the barstool. On the outside, no one could tell that he had just crashed through a plate glass window a minute before. "Took you fuckers long enough..."

Before the Agent could finish his sentence, the Major delivered a swift jab with the butt of his rifle to the side of the soldier's chest wall, returning him back to the floor where he'd started his journey. So loud was the snap of the soldier's rib that the doctor and some of the soldiers in the room cringed in pain, but Barton only grunted softly and continued to roll and bounced back up in one smooth motion.

Pretending to ignore the rest of the people in room, the soldier, now named Agent Barton, seamlessly flicked his gaze to the anxious doctor before he turned his back to everyone and picked up the cup of lukewarm coffee left behind by the diner's patron.

The silent doctor drily chuckled at the soldier's antics and then turned his eyes to the man in charge while he was trying to determine who the good guys were and who the bad guys were. This Major Zit as the solider called him had a look that the physician didn't trust. At least Barton told him to run and not get caught.

The warrior in green merely smiled darkly and calmly shifted his weight behind his rifle as he watched his prey's floor show. Then, a member of his entourage came up to the Major and leaned in to tell him some urgent information as he eyed the doctor.

"Yes, right," Major Zit cleared his throat loudly. "Had enough coffee Barton? Lieutenants, please relieve this asshole of his weapons. And, I'm planning on you in cooperating with us, Barton. You wouldn't want your friend here to leave here before us with some of my men or in a body bag, would you?"

Barton set his cup down on the counter, dramatically sighed as his searching eyes took in the situation, and then turned back to the group of arm men with his hands straight out with his palms out. "You're lucky, Major Pimple, he stayed to help or you'll all be dead right now."

"Yes…yes..," The Major waved off the threat along with the insult to his name. "I've dealt with you before and you are true to your word, when you've not be compromised with an innocent's life at stake."

"Let him go and I'll go with you peacefully."

Barton showed his willingness to let the doctor go by carefully removing a hidden knife the trained goons didn't find on their own after they had searched him thoroughly. The stare down between the Major and the soldier didn't waver.

"Yea, but what about when he leaves or when we take you back to headquarters," the Major asked patiently. "You've killed five of my men with just a paperclip before and I can't just let you stand there without some chemical restraint."

With a nod of his head to one of Barton's personal body guards, a bulky man brought out an injection pen, popped the cap, and jammed into the Agent's neck as another two green army men roughly grabbed at Barton and held him still. All the soldier could do was grunt in response.

"Man, I hate when this happens," Barton whined over the Major's chuckle. "What did your quack, Fletcher, put in that syringe?"

"Major Zitler, sir," a guard walked up to the current man in charge. "General Stein's car just pulled up and we are able to secure this diner for another five minutes before our sonic shield will no longer block Agent Barton's homing device under his right lower molar."

"And his bow and quiver?" Zitler's eyes and concentration never left the drugged soldier who was still intently staring at the Major as he began to slightly sway and then was pushed onto the barstool with a powerful jerk from his captors.

"Don't lose my…quivvver for me." Barton slurred as the doctor noticed the soldier's eyes started to glass over; his pupils widening and engulfing his blue eyes. "That's my favorite…this month…"

"It's in the bottom of a sewer in New Jersey by now." General Stein sauntered in and looked around the room, his eye settling pleasantly on the mute doctor. All but, Barton and the doctor came to stiff attention with the older man's timed appearance. The agent's head listed to one side as he snorted in disgust loud enough to earn him a punch to his face.

"Please," the commanding officer gestures to the out of town visitor to sit at the booth he was in before Barton crashed through the window. "Sit, join me."

Not seeing much of a choice, the young physician mentally pushed down his raising fear, straightened his shoulders, and took the bench opposite the General. General of what he didn't know just yet.

Looking at this older man, the doctor noticed at solidly built, military career man with salt-and-pepper hair in the typical bowl cut fashion. Although the man didn't wear metals, the General wore his power like his impeccable uniform. Just his sheer presences warned the doctor that his fate was in the palm of this man's hand that sat across the booth and in front of his still warm omelet and glass of orange juice.

"Thank you for helping detain Agent Barton for us." General Stein softly smiled that had a commanding edge to it as he held up a piece of paper in his hand he appeared to be rereading.

"Mr., no, Doctor Ryan Swigert, newly graduated from residency in Oral Surgery from the University of Iowa and here on a visit to New York City to take your certification boards. Quite the mouthful I must say."

Now the young doctor had had a name now too! Dr. Swigert sat straighter in his seat as the General toss the note to the side of his plate, picked up a fork, and placed a napkin on his lap. Major Zitler stepped up to the table and set the doctor's wallet and book bag next to his superior on the seat.

"All the information we've obtained about Dr. Swigert has been verified, sir." Zitler nodded to the doctor. "Unfortunately for him, he's in the wrong place and time, sir."

"Yes," the General nodded and then took a bite of egg before he began to talk again. "Dr. Swigart…Iowa Buckeyes…"

"Hawk…eyes! You ssshit head!" Barton snapped. One of guards gave the soldier a swift slap across the back of his head for correcting the General.

"That's right," General Stein absently nodded a thank you to the struggling agent as his men grappled the soldier's arms and secured them behind his back. Stein turned back to the doctor whose forehead wrinkled as he watched and heard the loud smack. "You're wondering what we gave your friend here."

Swigert broke the General's gaze while accessing his knowledge to what drug that they could have given Agent Barton to suspiciously eye the tied up man, turned back to the General, and then slowly nodded. He was dying to know. Okay, not the best term to use, thought the doctor.

"You see," the smug man took another bite of egg before continuing on. "Agent Barton is part of a secret organization dedicated to stopping my army from getting what we need to bring balance to the world. He's been train as a soldier and an assassin and will use any means necessary to fort our efforts.

"Knowing this and the number of people I've lost, my Research and Development team created a drug that helps me subdue the irritating little prick. It has a strong muscle inhibitor so his coordination is off, but as you can see, he can take a heavy dose and it's already starting to wear off. Oh, the famous Hawkeye won't be able to run a marathon, but he's still very dangerous."

The doctor swiftly looked back at the soldier in shock and awe. Hawkeye! The Hawkeye, of the Avengers the one all over the news who helped save New York no, the whole world from the aliens a while back?

"Yes, he's an Avenger, but only by default." Stein waved his hand casually towards Barton. "Like you, my dear Doctor, he was at the wrong place and the wrong time. Backing up the true Avengers with his little bow and arrow from atop a building. If my army hadn't swooped in to help Ironman and Captain America, the battle would've been lost."

"Fuck you!" Barton spat out along with a perfectly aimed ball of bloody spit that landed right on the doctor's omelet that the General was eating right in front of the silent physician with a disgusting splat.

"Charming to the last," Stein smirked to Swigert, but set down in fork and pushed away the stolen meal. "But, as much as I would love to kill this torn in my side, I need to find what he's stolen from our scientists, Doctors Syn and Ringgold. And, when we find it, we can profit by selling him to the highest bidder or let my men have their way with him as a bonus, shall we say, for all his grave misdeeds towards my troops."

With that acknowledgement to why they were chasing down the infamous Hawkeye, the doctor put two and two together as he noticed the General give his guard another small nod and out popped another syringe pen that found its way into Barton's neck.

"That was another useful drug designed from our R and D, Dr. Fletcher. This one has some truth serum in it as well."

All they got from the soldier was another grunt and crazy-ass smile.

"Dr. Swigert," Stein brought the doctor's attention back to him as he wadded up a napkin and tossed over the colorful swirl of spit and blood dripping from the folded over eggs.

The other Hawkeye in the room looked back at the man in charge, trying to calm his rapidly increasing heart rate. He knew what was coming up next.

"Doctor, did Agent Barton pass you anything just now or place a memory stick anywhere within this establishment?" Stein asked softly as his glare intensified.

The whole room waited with bated breath for the mute doctor to speak. Knowing that if he dared look at the super hero for support it could mean torture and or death for him. The Oral Surgeon took a deep breath in and shook his head no before bringing his gaze down to his hands which he worked hard not to let them tremble as they were folded on top of the table.

Out of his periphery, Swigert noticed that Hawkeye's grin began to droop and his eyes harden before he gave the doctor a half-lidded wink. Was this man insane?

"Well, we know that you're not carrying on your person or in your bag." The General heavily sighed in rising frustrations. "And I believe that you didn't have enough time to have this S.H.I.E.L.D. asshole here to give it to you. So that leaves me only two options in the next 60 seconds I have before the real Avengers show up.

"One," said Stein after gulping down the last of the orange juice. "I take you and Barton with us, use you to get to Hawkeye, and give him the opportunity to kill more of my men or two, just kill both you and that bastard over there, and accept my losses. I'll have to wait a bit longer to get all that information back. Which one would you prefer Dr. Swigert? Help me with the stubborn Hawkeye and possibly end up walking out of here, get tortured, or just go straight to death? Just tell me where I can find that memory stick."

General Stein pulled out his revolver and leveled it at the Iowa physician with a steady hand. "What about you, Barton, are ready for this man to die for your thievery? We're down to forty seconds…"

"Horse…shit!" Hawkeye slurred out as the super strong truth serum surged through his struggling body. "…front…pock…et, under the amour. Don't…kill him.'

A fierce roar from a large animal was suddenly heard in the background to punctuate the air of urgency for the doctor's answer. Clearing his throat with a light cough, Swigert nervously watched Agent Barton, who was leaning against his guards for support as a third one was practically ripping the protective coverings away from the Soldier's arms and chest with a vicious looking knife. Not bothering if it nicked Barton's skin or not. "Found it!"

"Sir, our jamming device has just been destroyed by the Hulk."

"Now knock the bastard out and take him to Headquarters." The General banged the table in triumphed with his empty hand. "We'll keep Agent Barton on ice until we can take the real Avengers on.

"Now, for you Dr. Swigert, you have just lost your footing on my priority list."

The Doctor unconsciously jerked his head back to the man in charge and his eyes widen as a soft "Pthet" sounded out within the booth before he felt it, something bit him.

Looking down in a daze, Dr. Ryan Swigert, resent graduate of the Oral Surgery Residency at the University of Iowa Hospital and Clinics, noticed a small trickle of blood starting to soak into his newly pressed white shirt.

A warm, flush feeling ran through the Doctor's upper body and head. Stunned speechless for real, Swigert remain deadly still as he calmly waited for the pain of the gunshot wound. Raising only his eyes up to meet the General's disgusting smirk and smoking gun, words came at last to the dying physician's lips.

"It's been a pleasure, Doctor," General Stein gloated as he stood up and holstered his gun. "Sorry, that we couldn't have met under better circumstances. We could have used a man like you in our organization. Goodbye."

"Shit," Swigert moaned out the favorite curse word of the day as a wave of dizziness hit him hard, his head pitched forward, and slammed sideways onto the table.

Just before losing all sense, the Doctor watched the frantic activity around him as the green army men retreated; taking unconscious and restrained Hawkeye out the back of the diner when another roar rang out from the approaching Hulk. It was definitely closer this time and then all faded to black.

AV/AV/AV

The first thing Ryan Swigert noticed as his mind started to surface from the warm pitch black of nothingness was how angry his was. First, to be dead and second, not to be able to say goodbye to any friends or family before getting in the middle of a war for world domination.

Along with the anger, came a rise of bile from the pit of the Doctor's stomach that threatened to explode any second. Coughing on the pungent acid grenade, Swigert's head bounced up, off the table as he tried to swallow his stomach's contents back down.

Eyes scrunched together, it took a moment of three deep breaths for Ryan to realize that he wasn't dead, but for those few moments he wished he was until the gurgling in his stomach finally settled down.

Blinking as he slowly opened eyes, the doctor noticed that he wasn't alone.

"Here," a gruff voice ordered. "Drink this. Agents Barton and Romanoff swear by this stuff from Medical after being shot with an animal tranquilizer made specifically to take down most S.H.E.I.L.D agents."

Swigert took the liquid, eyed it suspiciously, shrugged his shoulders as if to say that this day couldn't get any weirder, chugged it, before gagging on the taste. "Lemony. Who are you?"

"Giving up on being mute?" The black man before him with the black eye patch asked as he eyed him. The younger man snorted in the pure giddiness from just cheating death. "Agent Barton was right; you can hold your own. I'm Director Fury of the Strategic, Homeland, Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.

"Why am I not dead?" Swigert seriously asked.

"Because, it would've caused more attention to General Stein and his secret army if he killed a civilian. He thought he had gotten back the information stolen from his organization and the person who stole it. But, he yet again, misjudged our Agent Barton."

"Is he alright?" The Doctor interrupted the Director with concern for the Soldier.

"Yes, Hawkeye of the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. is a little worn, but upright." Fury nodded with dramatic roll of his eyes. "And coming to meet with us right now…"

The Doctor quickly swung his head to the right to see a stooped man approach. The Agent's face was drawn and eyes blood shot as he staggered sit next to his fellow Iowan.

"Man, Doc, you must have been tired, you were asleep for over four hours with your face stuck to the table." Hawkeye genuinely smiled. "You look as bad as I feel. Reversal drugs are almost as bad in my opinion."

Swigert couldn't help it, but looked over the wayward agent: split lip, ripped uniform, knife scrapes, and a light wheeze in every breath the agent took.

"How did you get away?"

"Ancient Chinese Secret," the Soldier joked about an old laundry detergent commercial as he winked to the stunned medical man, but didn't say any more.

"Mylanta, Agent," Fury impatiently growled. "I don't have time for your usual stupid-ass banter. Now find me that zip drive, so I can let the man go take his boards."

"But, boards are over with by now." Swigert jumped in, remembering why he was even in New York to begin with and not working at his new job in his new hospital.

"No," the Director directed his glare at the physician now, giving up on his subordinate lowered head. "We have it in our power to keep your spot open for when you woke up. Barton, go!"

"Thank you, I guess." Swigert didn't know if he could even concentrate enough to take his boards right now.

"Oh he can't go take boards right now..."

Barton interjected as he pushed him up from the booth and to the barstool he leaned over when he first crashed through the restaurant's window. Hawkeye started to pull at the padding off the metal seat's edge and felt with his fingers around the rim. Grasping the memory stick and then tossing it to Fury who easily caught it.

"I thought you had in your front pocket?" The Doctor questioned the Soldier as the medication for his stomach kicked in with a warm fuzzy feeling that helped clear his head, but made him feel a bit too happy at the same time.

"Feeling pretty good right now, eh Doc? Nat makes sure I have a double dose when I'm drugged to the gills on a mission, but no more than three swigs or you start seeing pink elephants. By the look in your eyes, you're almost there. I had two copies of the drive, so General Shitface and Major Zitman would think I didn't get anything before I broke away and only killed three little toy soldiers this time. The harder part is not to mention both of them."

Swigert chuckled more to himself as if he agreed with the Avenger although he didn't know why. "I don't think I could take a test right now to save my life. I don't ever take anything stronger than aspirin or drink alcohol in real life. This is still a dream right?"

"Yep, you're three sheets the wind." Barton crowed, maneuvered to his feet, and offered his hand out to the stoned visitor to New York. "Fury, set up the test for tomorrow. I bet our friend here needs some food in his belly or he'll have one hell of a hangover in the morning. Not good form for taking your doctor boards. I know this great falafel; Amir's Falafel House just down the street from here..."

"Walk, don't drive." Fury gave a stern warning. "And I'm sending Banner there once he's changed back. He'll want to check you out since you won't go to medical."

"Hey, I'm with a doctor already," Barton said indignity as he pulled Swigert to his feet and motioned him to proceed either out the broken window or main door of the diner. It was his choice. "Hey, you have calluses on your fingers, do you shoot a bow? Want to have some fun and shoot at targets? I have these great exploding tips that Stark developed for me."

"No, I play the cello, Agent Barton." Swigert nervously let the super hero push him out the door.

"Bow stings, Bow strings," the soldier rambled happily on. "They are all the same; birds of a feather from two Hawkeyes. Later Fury, I'll call when I think about."

"Dr. Swigert," Fury heavily sighed and crossed his arms over his black, leather-clad jacket. "Make sure Agent Barton gets you back to your hotel in time of a decent night's sleep for your boards in the morning, complements of S.H.I.E.L.D. and someone infinitely more responsible than Birdman here will be picking you up and be taking you there in the morning."

"Yes, sir," Ryan smiled as he huffed out a contagious laugh, but couldn't really think to why he was happy, confused, and slightly fearful of the inebriated Avenger at the same time.

"Come on, Swigert!" Hawkeye cheerily began as they walked down the sidewalk side-by-side to grab lunch. "You know you did pretty well back there, didn't piss your pants or nothing. Oral Surgeon, huh? I really never got to like many doctors, except for Banner of course. Even when he's the Hulk, he's pretty cool…."

Director Fury shook his head in disbelief as he watched the two men leave, before he picked up his phone and dialed a familiar number. "Agent Romanoff, yes… yes… going to one of his favorite places to eat on this street with the innocent. No, I'll call Hill and tell her tomorrow for the testing.

"Why am I calling you?" Fury's eyebrows rose ever so slightly. "Because, I'm putting you in charge of the 'Valedictorian of Iowa City' that is your partner. Stop giving him pain killers along with those reversal drugs. Yes, I know his needs it with his injuries, but you know how he gets, and now I have two drunken men strolling to Amir's Falafel House when they can't even walk a straight line even if it was painted white and three feet wide. Yes, you know it's that serious when Barton gets all chummy with other people he doesn't know. That's when I know you've given him too much. I'm sending Banner as well, Fury out."


End file.
